


Overdue Introductions (Revised)

by SquirrellyThief



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Friendship fic + some emotional trauma, Gen, Hurt/Comfort arguably, friendship fic, mostly angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 00:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15107780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquirrellyThief/pseuds/SquirrellyThief
Summary: Connor starts behaving strangely; leaving at routine hours of the night, lying about where he's going. Hank eventually gets fed up with the secrets and decides to tail him.





	Overdue Introductions (Revised)

**Author's Note:**

> Another rewrite of a [ fic I posted on tumblr ](http://squirrellythief.tumblr.com/post/175002330530) (the rough draft is still there with the same title if you want some insight into my process I guess?) that got surprisingly popular over there.
> 
> I apologize in advance.

**DEC. 23, 2038. 23:16:04**

 

This was their third circuit around the block and Hank was getting really tired of this bullshit. How many nights this week had he followed Connor on his walks around town? Too goddamn many was the answer. It was always the same portion of town, always three or four hours, always amounting to nothing.

At first, Hank had assumed Connor was going out to see the Christmas lights. He’d slipped out in his Jericho gear, hat pulled low enough to cover his LED in case he ended up surrounded by an anti-android group. Humans were behind the bulk of the decoration after all and you never knew with traditionalists. The androids eventually got on board with it too, though, and the whole city was lit up and draped with garlands, lights, and whatnot in no time. Just like last year.  Just like nothing had happened. That is, if one didn’t happen upon a CyberLife store.

Christmas was always a difficult holiday for Hank. If he wasn’t a homebody the rest of the year, he certainly was every day after Thanksgiving and before Martin Luther King Day. It just wasn’t a season for him. Not that  _ any _ season was a season for him, if he was being realistic. Something about the lights and gifts and Salvation Santas on the corners tugged at something too deep to really be recognized. Christmas was bittersweet, or sometimes just bitter. Christmas was his life coming apart at the seams. Christmas was that first family get-together after the accident. It was questions he didn’t have answers to. In-laws pretending everything was fine, that a seat wasn’t empty, that there weren’t gifts under his sister-in-law’s tree bought months ago being left behind ,or worse, re-labeled and given to Hank’s nephews depending on how much the givers disliked Hank as a person. Christmas was his ex-wife going to visit her family while he stayed home with Sumo and then just not bothering to come back until February.

He washed the ball of acid working its way up the back of his throat down with a mouthful of tepid coffee.

Connor had started staying with him after Markus’s Revolution since he couldn’t go back to CyberLife after his little stunt in the warehouse. Markus had offered him a place with the Jericho group (even without the ship to call home they’d decided to keep the moniker) but Connor had been reluctant to take it for some reason. So, Hank offered his couch until he could find a place of his own. When the dust really started to settle, the city of Detroit offered living arrangements for the androids. Each had an opportunity to register a domicile to their serial number and they’d have a place to live independently of humans. Connor hadn’t even considered it. He’d been Hank’s roommate for the better part of a month at that point and was content to stay that way.

Hank was happy to have him, even if he was hardly ever around anymore.

Connor’s outings had gotten more regular the week after Thanksgiving. Too regular to be to look at the lights or watch trees and decorations go up. Two days was enough to see everything worth seeing. Three days if Connor was inclined to be thorough. It also didn’t explain the secrecy. The way Connor would just up and vanish at 8:30 and then mysteriously reappear sometime around 1:00. 

Then, after the evacuation order lifted things started getting dangerous for androids again. Tensions were high between returning residents and what they saw as unworthy usurpers of their city. Daylight hours drowned Hank and Connor both in cases of deviants being battered and broken down or acting in self-defense. It was a nightmare and a half and Connor’s little nocturnal outings became cause for concern.

He tried asking about it. Subtle to start off with, “What do androids do in their off hours anyway?” he’d asked one morning over coffee, “Is it like a laptop situation where you go into sleep mode or do you surf the internet or some shit?”

Connor replied that he usually spent his nights getting a head start on the next day’s work or went through cold case files to supplement his archive. “Though sometimes I do peruse the internet to update my cultural database.”

When Hank tried again he was a bit more direct: “Where do you keep going at night?” Connor had tried to avoid the question but Hank didn’t back down.

“I go on walks around Detroit, looking for deviants to send to Jericho.” He eventually said.

“Every night?”

“Would you like me to stay tonight?” Connor scrunched up his brow in concern, LED flashing yellow at his temple.

Hank brushed him off. That was as good an answer as any. He’d suspected clandestine meetings with Markus anyway. Tensions what they were, Connor wound up in the position as something of a double agent on behalf of the androids, sneaking information about confiscated parts or potential deviants to be picked up and taken in before the police had to get involved. Usually he told Hank when he was going behind Fowler’s back though, as an extra cushion for his alibi or just to let him know in case he didn’t come back. Maybe he was involved in something Hank needed plausible deniability for. 

He wasn’t concerned.  _ He wasn’t. _ He didn’t stay awake until he heard the sound of Sumo rushing to greet Connor. He didn’t hold his breath coming out into the kitchen those mornings he’d fallen asleep before the android got back. He didn’t get paranoid on the nights 1:30 rolled around and there was silence; what if Connor was malfunctioning in some way? What if he caught by a rowdy bunch of drunks? It wasn’t like they could just send him back to CyberLife for repairs, and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to bring Connor to Kamski unless it was truly dire.

So, after three weeks of these shenanigans, Hank threw his coat on, refilled Sumo’s water bowl, and headed out after the android to tail him. A good old-fashioned shadowing that yielded absolutely fucking nothing. No meeting with Markus or his crew. No hunting down rogue androids. Nothing. Just a few laps around town and then he went home. He didn’t go into any buildings, only lingered at a few windows for effect, didn’t talk to anyone except for the occasional polite “Excuse me” when he cut it too close to someone on a crowded sidewalk. Just nothing. Fuck all. Hours of walking in a giant circle clocking miles and miles of fruitless steps.

_ What the fuck? _

Days and days of this nonsense to the point where Hank had figured out the pattern in his routine and could actually  _ beat _ Connor to his usual haunts after getting a cup of coffee and setting up his own web of lies to leave early. He sincerely hoped this shit didn’t go on forever. He wasn’t sure he could handle a stakeout on Christmas Eve for this plastic asshole.

It was nearing the end of Connor’s usual pattern when the android suddenly changed course. He was walking with purpose now, his hands shoved into his pockets and shoulders hunched.

Hank abandoned his coffee and set off after him.  

They wandered out of commercial districts into a quiet, wealthier neighborhood. Neat rows of identical little new houses. The house lights mostly off, Christmas decorations flashing and cheery, glittering off the snow in a variety colors. The occasional Nativity and blank house. A small forest of For Sale signs. 

Connor slowed his pace when they reached an ornate stone and iron fence. Five feet of laid stones and then wrought iron bars rising another few feet. A church yard? It was too hard to see into the place from this angle. Hank tried to remember the layout of this particular neighborhood. He watched from a full house-length back as the android ran his fingertips across the stones. Connor turned his head, looking for something. When he finally stopped and Hank stopped too sidestepping behind a tree to avoid Connor’s line of sight. 

The android took a step back, almost off the curb and into the street but not quite. With a bit of a running start, he hopped up onto the stone portion of the wall, nudged a bar to the side with his foot and slipped through fence.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Hank sighed, jogging up to that spot in the fence; the bar still cocked to one side. He could see beyond the wall now. It wasn’t a church the android had broken into. It was a cemetery. He stared at the bar for some time. Why break in? Why not just show up at business hours? On a weekend? “What the fuck, Connor? I’m too fucking old for this shit.”

But Hank struggled through the fence after him.

“I swear to God, if you get me arrested…”

He followed Connor’s outline in the distance for a long while, trying to keep enough distance that his footsteps in the snow didn’t trip Connor’s audio sensors. Hank had first-hand knowledge of how sensitive the android’s hearing was.

He kept his pace slow, scanning the grounds for guards or security drones. It was a beautiful place, quaint and somber, even covered in snow. Statues loomed in shadow in the distance, a forest of black covering the horizon. On his right, the main buildings acted a set guiding stars in a sea of low stones and curving avenues. Newer stones were surrounded by the dirtiest snow and draped with garlands. Pots of poinsettias, probably fake, sat on a few; stark pops of red against the blues, whites, and greys like drops of blood on a pressed shirt. Hank couldn’t make out any names and it felt disrespectful to wander closer.

As they rounded to the front of the buildings, Hank realized he knew this place. He’d been here before, ages ago. Back when he was still working the Red Ice cases. His ex-wife’s mother was buried here somewhere. He looked around for landmarks so he might find the plot, but it was lost to him. Oh, well. She’d never been too fond of him anyway.

Connor, eventually, after treading across several plots, found what he was looking for. Hank picked his way around. He might not have been a superstitious man, but he wasn’t about to walk across someone’s grave. He caught up with the android just as Connor was kneeling down in the snow.

He’d stopped at a marker. A three foot by two foot slab of fake marble standing upright. A standard thing, all straight lines and rounded corners. It was on the newer side from what Hank could see. He inched closer, keeping to the android’s back, but couldn’t see much more. Any text on it was completely obscured from his view. He watched from a row back, his shoulder against a statue, arms folded, as Connor scraped snow and ice off the headstone. It was so quiet, the air so still, Hank could hear every pass as Connor scrubbed the thing down.

Who in the Hell would  _ Connor _ be visiting? Hank rattled his brain trying to come up with people who’d died on their cases. Nothing came to him. Anyone that might have meant something to Connor wouldn’t be here. They’d be at CyberLife or the junkyard. Hell, the  _ evidence locker _ was a more likely place than this one. Maybe it was someone he’d killed over the course of the Revolution? Was Connor that kind of sentimental? Hank doubted it. It all seemed to be a necessary means-to-and-end type of thing to him. Regrettable, definitely, but necessary and not to be dwelled upon. 

“Those officers knew the dangers of their profession, Lieutenant,” Connor had said about it a day or so after he’d settled into Hank’s place. Hank couldn’t recall what they’d been talking about prior to the conversation taking this dark turn. “They were specifically trained for such things and their training failed them. That’s hardly my fault.”

Hank shuddered at the memory. Connor had some really fucked up ways of reminding Hank of what he really was.

Connor finished his scraping and sat in silence for a while. Hank could hear the faint  _ ting _ of his quarter just barely loud enough to register; or maybe he was just imagining the sound in time with the movement. It caught the dim light of the distant street lamps as it spun in the air over the android’s shoulder. He was thinking.

_ Ting. _ Making a decision.

_ Ting. _ Writing a script in his head.

_ Ting _ . Categorizing information.

_ Ting.  _ Planning.  _ Ting _ . Preparing.  _ Ting. _ Calibrating.

_ Ting.  _ This was taking a while.  _ Ting. _ A long while.  _ Ting. _ Fuck, that sound was annoying, just make a goddamn decision, Connor!

The coin stopped.

Connor sat on his knees in front of the headstone. “This is a bit strange, I must admit.” His voice carried, crisp and clear as ever. “But humans do this often. They believe it a way to,” he paused, Hank held his breath.  _ No. _ “Communicate with the deceased. I don’t think that’s true necessarily, but it seems- no, it  _ feels _ like I should do this.”

Hank felt his chest start to burn. 

“Hello, Cole.”

The name hit Hank like a solid punch to the chest.  _ No. _ This wasn’t- Oh, God, it had to be. How had Connor found this? Why was he here? What the hell was he doing? Hank wanted to strangle him, but checked himself. Forced himself to watch the whole scene play out before giving into violent urges.

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife to assist your father on a case back in November.” Connor shifted his weight, settling in. “I know a little about you already. I would like to know more,” that same light lilt he’d had when he mentioned liking dogs that first day at the station. He sounded so  _ young _ like that. “But,” Connor continued, “Lieutenan-  _ Hank _ doesn’t really like to talk about you much. It’s hard for him. He misses you a great deal.”

Hank bit the side of his tongue.

“I wasn’t certain about this at first,” Connor just kept going. God, did this fucker ever learn when to quit? “But, someone said something about how I was trying to replace you. That is not true. It was never true.”

Hank unfolded his arms and balled his fists at his sides. Who the fuck had said that? Probably Gavin if he had to bet money on it. He’d have to give that motherfucker a piece of his mind later. 

“I’d like to think of your father as my friend.” Connor was saying when Hank focused again. “I hope that’s okay. He’s- I want you to know that I am going to do all that I can to get him back to his former self. He was good officer once. He  _ is _ a good man. I know he would prefer you here over me, but that’s just not possible.”

Hank was halfway to Connor before he realized he’d started moving.

“I’m sorry he couldn’t be here with me to visit. I didn’t want to upset him more. Maybe next time.”

“Connor!” He tried so hard to keep his voice even and thought he was mostly successful. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Connor whirled around, rising into a defensive crouch. “Oh. Hank. Did you follow me here?"

“You’ve been acting weird lately. Yeah, I followed you.”

The android relaxed a little, rising to his feet “Yes, I suppose my behavior would look rather strange. I had intended to come sooner and get this out of the way but things kept coming up.”

“And what exactly is  _ this _ ?” Hank gestured around them. “You wanna explain it to the rest of the class?”

“I wanted to introduce myself.”

Hank knew it was coming but it stung anyway. “To my dead son.”

“It seemed overdue.”

Hank didn’t have a comeback for that. The sincerity and gentleness of the statement took all the steam out of him. His anger suddenly lost to the December chill. He took a step around Connor, looking at the grave marker.

_ Cole Anderson _

_ Beloved Son _

_ 9/23/2029 - 10/11/2035 _

That last number stung the most.  _ 2035. _ It was taunting him. 

Had it really been  _ three _ fucking  _ years _ ?

“You know,” Hank said, unable to wrench his eyes from the neat little numbers. “This is the first time I’m seeing this?” He laughed once, a puff of humid air obscuring his vision.”I just- I missed the funeral. I couldn’t do it. After the hospital. After everything.” God he wanted a drink. “I just couldn’t be around all those people. Ex-wife never forgave me for it.

“What did it matter to her?” Angry now, it was all just sort of tumbling out, and Hank was powerless to stop it. “She made all the arrangements. Her family chose the plot and the casket and the stone. And I just made it happen. Preacher, flowers, dates. I knew what would be there and I didn’t want a fucking thing to do with it.” His jaw was shaking. “Does- God, I sound like a shitty father, don’t I? I didn’t even go to my own son’s funeral. Who fucking does that?”

Connor appeared at the edge of his vision. Standing beside him, facing ahead. “I don’t think that’s true.” He said. “Funerals are for the living. People gather because they think it’ll help them move on. If you thought it had nothing to offer you, you didn’t need to be there.”

“Tell that to Steph.” Hank mumbled, but it didn’t quite land. “She hated me so much for it.”

Connor said nothing.

“It wasn’t bad enough that we- We nearly died on that road together.” Hank knew he was rambling now but talking stopped his throat from closing and fought back the burning in his eyes. “God, it felt like we were out there for hours waiting for someone to help us. I told him- I told him over and over everything was gonna be alright. That he was gonna be fine. We were gonna be okay. And I lied to him. I fuckin’ lied to him, Connor. He’s not okay.” Something in the pit of his chest spasmed and he let out a noise through clenched teeth. “He’s not okay. He’s in the fucking ground.”

He covered his eyes  with his hand. Maybe if he stopped looking at the marker it would just vanish. He could open his eyes and be somewhere else. Somewhere better. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Connor said, soft and close. And that stung too, like a thousand needles behind his eyes and in his heart. “You couldn’t have known how things would play out that day.” Every word a blow. A reminder of that deviancy, that  _ humanity _ , Connor had acquired. A need to diffuse pain, to stabilize, to combat his own sense of empathy. The extra steps a machine wouldn’t take.

“It should have been me,” his voice was tight and strained even to his own ears. He sniffed loudly, running the hand over his eyes down his face. The cold air just made the sting worse. “He had his whole life ahead of him. But no. World’s stuck with me instead.”

He felt a weight settle on his shoulder and turned to see Connor looking at him. The android’s face was deceptively neutral. Hank wanted to punch him, but swallowed the urge. “What?” Hank said, opting for verbal blows. “You gonna tell me this happened for a reason?”

“No,” Connor said, “No, I don’t think it did. I think these things just… happen. I know it’s not what you want to hear but I don’t want to lie to you.”

“Thanks.” And he foolishly turned his gaze back to the headstone. It was so plain. So simple. So small. Hank scrubbed at his eyes and nose with his sleeve. Not that it did much. At least it was only Connor seeing him cry and not someone that might look at him differently after. “I miss him, Connor.” he didn’t care how weak it sounded. “I miss him so much I can’t stand it sometimes. I’d give fuckin’ anything to see him again.”

“I know, Hank.” The hand on his shoulder settled high on his back, just at the base of his neck. It was grounding, kept him centered.

It took him a few seconds to recover. When he did, Hank took a step forward, reaching out to brush his fingertips against the top of the stone. The sides were rough to the touch. He should have worn gloves.

“Do you need a minute, Hank?” Connor asked, still where Hank left him.

“I’ve had three years of minutes. I don’t really deserve any more.”

“That’s not true.”

Hank shrugged, and with a loud sniff said, “Nah. We should go before security gets wise to us.” He turned to head back the way they’d come. “Last thing I need is trespassing on my file. Jeff’d have a field day. Let’s go.”

“Okay.” Connor fell into step beside him.

They made it back out and over the fence without too much hassle. None of the security variety anyway. As Connor slid the loose bar back into place, though, Hank was struck with a question. “Who said that to you?” He asked as he started up the sidewalk, “That thing about you replacing my son?”

“No one.” Connor said, glancing sideways at him.

Hank stopped short. “You son of a bitch.” The consistency of his outings, the blatancy of his pattern, the  _ weak point in a fence Connor could have easily scaled. _ Oh, Hank wanted to push him into traffic for this one. How had he not noticed? He must have been getting rusty. “You engineered this.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t catch on sooner.” Connor stopped a few steps ahead and turned to face him. “Really thought the fence would give me away.”

“What the  _ fuck _ , man.  _ Why _ ? You make me worry sick about you, follow you around in the middle of the night, sneak into a place to make sure you’re not up to shit just to- to-”

“To get you to visit your son,” Connor finished for him.

“Oh that’s low.”

“It worked didn’t it?” the android had the decency to not sound smug, just curt. “And tell me you don’t feel a little better for it.” He did, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Connor now. “If I thought you’d come with me if I asked, I would have. But you avoided the subject every time I brought it up.”

Hank sighed and ran his hands over his face. “I have a question: do I recycle you with the milk jugs or the beer cans?”

Connor laughed.

“I’m serious. We gotta go green.” Hank was laughing too, though.

Connor turned around and kept walking up the road, but paused just long enough to flip Hank off and give him a dirty look. He’d taught the android well.

A quick jog and Hank caught up to him again. “You should call us a cab. I didn’t bring the car. I thought you would make me if I did.”

Another laugh and they stopped on the corner while Connor made the call. 

“Why’d you do this? Really.” Hank asked, pointedly looking up the road as if staring hard enough would will their cab into existence.

Connor took a long time to answer. Hank could imagine him working his jaw, his LED flashing yellow under his hat. “Because I thought you needed it. Because… you’re my friend and I don’t like to watch you struggle.” A pause, Hank imagined him rubbing his hands together. “Empathy is a Hell of a thing, Hank.”

“Damn straight, brother.” Hank finally turned back to him only to find Connor staring straight ahead. He did the same, but bumped the android’s shoulder with his own. “Damn straight. You know he would have liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” the earnestness of the question got a little laugh out of Hank. “Yeah, I do.”


End file.
